Merciful
by TheImmortalChicken
Summary: One of Natasha's numerous targets comes back to haunt her, unfortunately, while in a living state. Rated M for gore, violence, language, and sexual situations. Eventual Harry/Natasha.
1. Prologue

Briskly walking amidst the masses, endlessly colliding with the oncoming wave of oblivious fools, a rather forgettable woman, with bland chestnut hair, roughly shoulder-length hair, appears to be the epitome of a chameleon. Acting as if she was any ordinary, disheveled person, internally she's systematically scanning for the possibility of her target roaming through the crowds, as unlikely as it is. Some would consider calling her attractive, even her attire stylish, but the sea of faces would cause her to fade away in it. Accidentally colliding into a passerby, she gives him a sincere smile, and fervently attempts to apologize, while the man blushes in embarrassment. Refocusing her thoughts again, the woman continues her endless scanning, seeking a eighteen year old, with uncontrollable raven hair, and stunning emerald eyes. 'Eyes quite like my own', she thinks in a distracted tone.

Staring out the window his dank, and quite frankly, cramped apartment, the scent of cheap liquor permeates through the air. Rubbing his hand against his thin layer of stubble, he's content with the soothing feeling of it. Reminiscing about his perplexing memories of past, he absently stops stroking his stubble, instead rubbing the back of his hair. Nonetheless, he's also incessantly tapping his finger against the helpless table. Abrupt knocking thrusts him from his thoughts, and emerald eyes patiently look ahead to the doorway. With a flick of his wrist, the door opens to find…nothing. Mentally sighing, his life is extinguished with the pull of a trigger, and his body falls forward

Calmly walking down the multiple flights of stairs, for anything else would draw suspicion, a rather forgettable woman, with dull blonde hair and piercing brown eyes, walks into the unforgiving cold of the night. Without even a glance thrown backwards, in her rush from the scene of the crime, she neglected to do something rather crucial, something that would prove fatal.

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Groaning in misery, a warm, moist feeling, settles upon his face, which is pressed against the splintered floorboards. Lifting himself up, his body is swaying back and forth. Annoyingly enough, an irritating ache has presented itself through his entire body, most likely from his extended hiatus from his body. Languidly moving his body into strange positions, an orchestra of cracking noises is emitted from his body.

After a moment of contemplation, Harry Potter decides to walk out the doorway of the apartment, slamming it shut on his way out.


	2. Parted

Disclaimer: I own neither the Avengers, nor Harry Potter, for then I'd lavishly waste my fortune on something more productive for the entirety of society.

10 years later…

** Afghanistan:**

A maelstrom of bullets collided against the partially collapsed wall he was crouching behind. Although he was immortal, dying was such a tedious process, and not worth cycling through again.

Swirls of dust crossed the battlefield, as the destructive thudding of bullets penetrated past wisps of muddling haze.

'Damn Muggles, and their multitude of weapons to continuously murder me with," Harry thought frustratingly. Still, he hadn't resigned upon his success, and estimating the location of the guns, based off the sounds, he decided to eliminate the area with the loudest sounds. 'Since it'd be more destructive, obviously. Muggles truly need to find a method to lower the sound their more destructive weapons produce,' he pondered aimlessly.

Reverting the flow of his magic core, into his legs, in an instant, he was twirling in the air, with a tremendous height advantage over his enemies. The gunmen couldn't determine that anything strange had occurred, and continued in ignorance, firing various bits of weaponry at the wall Harry supposedly at. Meanwhile, his perception of time seemed to slow in mid-air; he lifted his dirt-encrusted finger, and a stream of blinding colours erupted from his fingertip. Volley after volley of wandless spells were launched into lines, and suddenly the firing from there came to a standstill. Harry's enemies were baffled, for a mountain of corpses had begun to pile up around them, and those who survived, fainted in shock from such an unexpected defeat.

Landing bluntly upon his feet, wondrous amounts of pain began to blossom from his legs, since he pumped a rather copious amount of magic into it, temporarily paralyzing it with electrical signals.

Gradually catching his breath, Harry slowly rose up again, this time he didn't stumble in agony.

A tranquil silence had settled over what was once a battlefield, and Harry calmly walked past it all, ignoring the suffering of the survivors. Intently focusing on something else, the person that these bastards were futilely attempting to guard.

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**Hungary:**

She's striding into a ballroom of grandeur, one that's been adorned with delicate chandeliers, magnificent lights, and a priceless diamond skylight, yet 'I don't give a damn about it', she crassly thought. Tightly covered by a crimson ballroom, glossy satin spirals downwards, concealing her delectable legs. Tonight, her masquerade of deception is on firmly, and it compliments her perfectly.

Seductively sauntering to her target, her sophistication appears to be blatant, in the eyes of the party guests. Gently touching his shoulder, with one of her immaculate, delicate fingers, she speaks to him in a hushed tone. Following her as if he were a lovesick puppy, her mesmerizing tresses of crimson hair, and entrancing body have anchored him to her. Unmindful as to where she's leading him, they arrive in a secluded corridor.

Several mumbled words and enchanting whispers later, she's in doubt as to what the target told her. His corpse lay crumpled, propped against the corner, his face disheveled, with blood seeping onto his formerly pristine suit. 'At least his final moments were incredibly pleasurable,' she thought morbidly. However, the existence of witches and wizards, preposterous to say the least, 'It's quite possible that his state of intoxication would induce such thoughts. Yet it's quite strange that one of the most brilliant men on the Earth would believe in such nonsense, so it could be possible,' she quite conflictingly thought.

"Romanoff, what's your status?" inquired a neutral sounding voice.

"Target eliminated, heading back to the rendezvous for extraction." she answered.

Comforting as a breeze in the darkness is, its nature is one of a fleeting feeling, like lust.

Suspicion begins to run rampant with the party guests, as they've now noticed the absence of the beautiful woman earlier, and the man who trailed behind her, like a lovesick puppy.

Vanishing back into the uniforms of S.H.I.E.L.D., Natasha continued to deliberate upon the existence of witches and wizards.

**Author's Note: This idea sprung from the depths of boredom. Enjoy. **

**Reviews are much appreciated, they provide both motivation to write chapters, and critique to improve my writing, and therefore the quality of Merciful. So hopefully review.**


	3. Clarity

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own the Avengers, sad as it may be.**

**Afghanistan:**

Strangely having met no more resistance at this point, Harry walked into the enemy encampment without delay. Scattered assortments of munitions are abandoned in the desolated desert. Tired of gazing upon such barbaric weapons, he sends and current of magic to his legs once again, this time, with less intensity and magic. Having already adjusted himself to the drastically new feeling, his legs felt as light as a feather, and he attempted a crazed dash to the ominous entrance to a cave.

Blazing uninterruptedly, the inferno of fire that is the Sun, forces beads of perspiration down his neck. Standing rather hesitantly in front of the cave entrance, the horrifying aroma of Death, wafts from the foyer of the cave, and a symphony of screams and cries from dying men, serenades Harry with its pleasantness.

Deceptively cloaking his true nature, Harry has a rather serene look upon his face, and his body is seemingly relaxed. The raging crimson in his irises betrays that façade however, and he steps into the foyer.

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Emerald eyes created a viridescent glow, in the gloom of an apartment. They petrify her with their supernatural beauty, yet she slow lifts up her pistol. Once the pistol is at level, the eyes look merely amused, and with the pull of a trigger-

Natasha stirred from her sleep rapidly, and gave out short huffs of air.

'Harry Evans, unknown age, black hair, green eyes, killed with a bullet to the head, London, England, July 31st, 2000,' she recalled.

Forcing herself to calm down, she folded her legs into a cross-legged sitting position, and breathes slowly.

Rudely awakening her from her meditation, the repetitive ringing from her communication device rouses her. Deciding to respond, she receives the call.

"Romanoff, be prepared, as the dropships will leave in 0200 hours."

"Any other reminders?"

"If there were, I would've already told you without being prompted."

Ending the call, Natasha resumes her careful meditation.

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Striding into the cave with a purpose, Harry notices a scholarly looking man, dresses radically different from theses terrorists. Sifting through the dying man's thoughts, Harry pities him, enough to cast the Impediunt Influxum Charm, buying him enough time for Stark to pay his goodbyes. Feeling slightly drained, Harry swivels around, firing a flawlessly accurate Conjunctivitus Curse at the bald headed man creeping behind him.

Moving further ahead, he encounters terrified Middle Eastern men, discharging bullets from their weapons. Their shooting is erratic, as the bullets ricochet off the tunnel walls they're shooting into. Struggling to survive, their valiant last stand was all for naught, as rapid thumps echo from said tunnel.

From the dimly lit corridors, a man shrouded entirely in metal is unmasked from the shadows. Shoving a poor fellow into the jutted wall of the tunnel, it shatters that man's spine immediately. The 'Iron Man' pummels a straggler in the face, launching said fellow several feet backwards.

Of course, Harry didn't wait blankly for the 'Iron Man' to massacre everyone. Instead, jets of dazzling light flew from Harry's fingertips, lighting up the tunnels like a bonfire. Bombarding the fleeing cowards with Rejiciuntur Curses, Augue Curses, Bombardas, Reductos, and the like. Lastly, in order to fittingly end the ballad of bloodshed, Harry casted the Fons Sanguinis Curse, rupturing the blood vessels of almost everyone nearby. Lines of crimson burst from the bodies gathered around Harry, and soon he had 39.2 litres of blood circling around him. Ignoring the 'Iron Man', Harry collapsed the lines, dousing the ground with a thin sheen of blood.

Finally noting the presence of Stark, Harry slowly lifted his hands, interlocking them behind his head.

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Grizzled and weary, a man with an eye-patch, obscuring what remains of his left eye, is in state of alarm. Re-checking the surveillance drone's images, the immense amount of sand clouds bits of the image, yet there's no disguising those distinct eyes. Glowing in the picture, as if they were mocking him for not finishing the job.

Sighing in vexation, Nick Fury closed the report, and decided the reassess his options regarding Harry Potter.

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Having been told only miniscule amounts to regards to the details of this mission, Natasha was definitely irritated.

Given only an image of both of them, and a vague profile of her targets' personalities, it was driving her up the wall with the lack of intelligence entrusted to her.

'Hermione Weasley, 30 years old, works as a doctor, 2 kids, and married to a Ronald Weasley.

Ronald Weasley, 30 years old, works as a minor league soccer player,' she noted.

"ETA, 0300 hours," announced a monotone voice, seemingly dissatisfied with every, according to that tone.

**Author's Note: There's 5.6 L of blood in the average person, do the math...**

**Anyways, this story has some direction, hopefully enough to keep you readers delighted. Secondly, I'm genuinely astonished by the amount of attention my story has already garnered. I have also set up a poll regarding the length of the chapters, so obviously vote if you desire you opinion to be heard.**

**Impediunt Influxum - "Block the flow", in this case, blocking the flow of time for Yinsen  
**

**Rejiciuntur - means explode, should be simple enough  
**

**Augue - Fireball, simple enough**

**Bombarda - essentially bombing **

******Fons Sanguinis - "Blood Fountain", forcefully removes the blood from a body, and circles around the caster**


	4. Blood

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or the Avengers, or both simultaneously.

**Afghanistan**:

Pitying Stark's friend Yinsen, he chooses not to Obliviate Stark, instead allowing him to mourn the passing of Yinsen.

Shock just isn't quite Tony Stark's cup of tea, so when he greeted Harry waiting outside the cave entrance, the conversation they had afterwards could only be described as, 'awkward'.

"Thanks for the rescue…" Tony said in a murmured tone.

"…" was what Tony was given as a response.

Nonplussed by the cold disregard the stranger gave him, Tony's stubbornness carried through.

Pestering the stranger with endless questions and inquiries, Tony's vision went hazy, as Harry casted an Oblivate on him.

Dragging Tony's limp body through the scorching sand, Harry assumed the glamour of an ordinary Middle Eastern man, as ordinary as someone hauling an unconscious billionaire can possibly be.

12 years ago:

**Hogwarts Castle:**

Chaos ravaged the once majestic castle, it's beautiful towers crumbling, unquenchable infernos plaguing the grounds, rubble crowding the ground, and the horrors of a battlefield marred Hogwarts' beauty.

Fred, Remus, and Tonks' deaths cloud Harry's thoughts, muddling them with whisper for vengeance in their name, while more radical whispers rallied for a massacre of the Death Eaters. Doubt blackened Harry's final actions in the Battle of Hogwarts.

Deciding to surrender himself, after Voldemort's ultimatum, unfamiliar voices continued to claw away at Harry's thoughts.

"Massacre them, it's the perfect opportunity," says one in a conspiratorial tone.

"Let the Forest become flooded with their blood."

"Burn them, slice off their heads, bomb their bodies, shatter every one of them."

Suffering in agony from these thoughts, Harry clutches his head in the mass of confusion.

Stirring after his enlightening talk with Dumbledore in Limbo, the futileness of the situation proves itself again when the voices return. Perhaps if he were saner, he would've figured it to be the corrupting influence of the Deathly Hallows.

The creations of the Peverell Brothers, the Deathly Hallows, were in fact, as legend tells them to be, Death's own Hallows. However, they contained an unseen side effect, the erosion of sanity on the wielder's part, for no mortal could possess Death's objects of power without consequences.

Briefly opening his eyes, Harry awoke from his feigned sleep, to see a downtrodden Hagrid carrying his body.

Bracing for the voices to once again descend upon him, Harry keeps them at bay, saying that a large group of Death Eaters will be gathering soon, the perfect opportunity for vengeance and bloodshed, which unsurprisingly, temporarily silenced the voices.

Voldemort announced his death to gathered crowd of Hogwarts' defenders, and disbelief ran through their ranks. Harry's body was tense, preparing for the perfect moment to ambush Voldemort's forces. Waiting for the fool to resume his speech, Harry remained tense, like a predator stalking its prey.

Once Voldemort continued, Harry himself lost control of his actions, it was as if the voices finally rebelled, and thrust control from him, for themselves. Crimson began seeping into his irises, and uncontrollable rage flowed in his veins.

Pirouetting an unbelievable height, unknown spells bombarded the Death Eater ranks. Unattached limbs lay strewn on the ground, trails of blood crisscrossed, creating a morbid piece of art.

Voldemort didn't waver, and flee like his subordinates, yet signs of fear were starting to show.

The inhabitants of Hogwarts looked on in astonishment and horrified for the grisly slaughter. Not willing to risk themselves in the tempest of spells, they could only watch. Hermione and Ron looked on, frightened by the monster their best friend had become. Streams of blood dripped off Harry's face, most of it not his, and Hermione was immediately retching, Ron not much better off, with a queasy look on his face.

Soon, pandemonium broke out in Hogwarts' population, with everyone fleeing from the hellfire of spells, yet not a single Death Eater managed to flee. Yet Hermione was still courageous enough to attempt to sprint to Harry's side, in a desperate effort to end the bedlam. Ron noticed this, and firmly grabbed her wrist, with a pleading look in his eyes to not do so.

Strange spells fired themselves from 'Harry's' fingertips, a bolt of lightning electrocuting one Death Eater on his left, and quickly ducking to dodge an incoming Avada Kedavra, Harry turned 45 degrees right, and returned fire with a Bone Shattering Curse. Walking forwards aimlessly, Harry is oblivious to the Avada Kedavra Voldemort is casting behind him. Continuing forwards, a salvo of Bombardas, Reductos, and Blood Boiling Curses launched from his right hand, obliterating a fleeing group of Death Eaters. Suddenly, Harry instinctively bends forwards, narrowly evading a familiar jet of green light. Swiveling backwards, Harry utilizes his suddenly large arsenal of spells, firing spell after spell in succession, for Voldemort on the defensive. The ferocity of Harry's attack increases, as does his anger and bloodlust.

Voldemort quailed in fear from the onslaught, and with a quick Decollare Curse that slipped past Voldemort's meager defence, his head rolled onto the ground.

His enemies would've celebrated, considering it was ideally a joyous time, but Harry's bloodlust wasn't quite sated, and refocused itself upon the population of Hogwarts.

Hurtling himself towards scattered groups of people fleeing, the whimpering scream of Hermione pierced into Harry's mind. Harry himself regained control, with the crimson wisps in his eyes, draining away.

Panting heavily, he was about to collapse from the grueling killings his just did, when Hermione's hand shook him awake.

"Was all this killing necessary?" her sobbing voice asked, "Did all those people need to die? Why all the killing, I know this isn't you, so why?"

Speechless, and with nothing to say, he gave into exhaustion.

Rising on the uncomfortable stone ground, he's greeted with glares from people visiting the Hospital Ward, while others look somewhat appreciative.

Desperately seeking answers, Harry spots Hermione conversing with Parvati Patil, and then Harry looks downwards to see the pale corpse of Lavender Brown, whose dead state he can sense.

Ushering Hermione over from her conversation, he questions her, "Why is everyone sending me those glares?"

"It's because some Hogwarts students died…" she replies.

"Died from my crazed rampage," he finishes cautiously, "And are you afraid Hermione of me?"

"I just want to know why you did what you did."

"Now that my sanity is still present, I can hopefully tell you. The Hallows are driving me insane, literally, they whispered into my head, and I couldn't control it."

"Oh."

Deciding to shift the topic of the conversation elsewhere, he inquires about Ron.

"With Fred's death, all he's been doing is silently staring at the wall. Not exactly a proper, and healthy way of dealing with it," she rambles.

"Hermione, stop. There's something I've been considering for these past few minutes, and it's not pleasant. I should leave the Wizarding World."

And her reaction was immediate, attempting to draw him back, but all Harry believed that his continued presence would've brought to much grief and chaos to the already problematic state of Wizarding Britain.

Wandering the halls endlessly, Harry continues pondering his decision to leave, and decides that for the safety, and stability of everyone, he should vanish. Encountering some people whilst wandering through the corridors of Hogwarts, he was welcomed with looks and words of disdain, shunning him and his horrendous deeds. This only served to fuel his decision to leave, and without saying goodbye, Harry flew away on his prized Firebolt.

Present Day:

**Afghanistan: **

The stedy throbbing of helicopter blades approaches the hill that both Tony and Harry are resting upon. Having just resumed consciousness, the only thing that Tony recalled was making his escape in the prototype suit he built, and in the process, Yinsen had sacrificed his life.

Forcefully being dragged into the helicopter with Stark, on Stark's own volition, it was a dull helicopter ride, with Harry glancing out the window the entirety of the ride. When prompted to by the soldiers, he decided to reveal that he could speak in English with them, with a light Middle Eastern accent (thanks to a charm beforehand).

Posing as a shepherd, whose animals had wandered too far into the desert, and he had ended up stumbling upon an unconscious Tony Stark. Recognizing who he was, Harry was attempting to drag him back to his home, to nurture him back to health.

Evidently, the soldiers seemed somewhat skeptical of his story, but when he chose to ramble on about various farming techniques and animals, they conceded their doubts.

Being coerced onto the private jet back to America wasn't something he quite planned, but he complied with it nonetheless.

10 years ago:

**S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters:**

Harry Potter, going by the name Harry Evans, is, according to one of his contacts in the Wizarding World, a dangerous, insane, and blood-crazed killer, clearly shown during the Battle of Hogwarts, which his associate managed to obtain Wizarding pictures of.

Contemplating the merits of killing him before his influence will reach America, Nick Fury decides the it's worth killing him. For having an insane man, with astonishing powers isn't something that Fury wishes to go rampant later on.

Ignoring his fulfillment of his part of the bargain with his contact, the capture of Harry, Nick doesn't hesitate in ordering Natasha to kill Harry.

Present Day:

**S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters:**

Rubbing his temples in frustration, the resurgence of Harry Potter, who went by Evans, wasn't something that Nick desired to deal with again.

According to his contact, who was once an associate of Harry's, the only alternative to killing him, would be to capture and detain, possibly employ, his former school friends, Hermione and Ron Weasley. It seemed that only his desire to protect his friends was the driving force behind Potter's abandonment of the Wizarding World

Ideally, it should force Potter to comply with some of our demands, or restrain him. 'He's quite similar to Banner, really,' thought Nick, comparatively.

Contacting Agent Hill, the only one who knew of the Wizards so far, Fury orders her to change Natasha's orders.

**Roughly near the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole, England:**

Trying to look as auspicious as possible, Natasha wore a simple sky blue sundress. Wrapping her around why Fury would need these two alive, she patiently waits a couple hundred meters away from where the targets are supposed to be, and is surprised to find nothing in sight. Closing her eyes in utter confusion, her reflexes save her when a hand grabs her shoulder.

Clobbering the man with a punch to the abdomen, she prepares for a knee to his head, when he chokes out a, "stop."

"Natasha, man you a bloody excellent punch, I'm Neville, a specialist that Fury brought in. Just stop with beating the breath out of me, and we can talk," Neville gasps out.

Hesitatingly to knee him, Fury's voice in her communicator tells her to stop,

"Romanoff, I brought him here. He's going to assist you in capturing the two Weasleys. So stop pummeling him, I owe him multiple favors," orders Fury.

Panting, and still cradling his hurt abdomen, Neville pulls out a stick, and with a couple motions with it, and some Latin words, he's mostly fine.

With her eyebrow raised, Neville gave her an answer, "It's magic."

And with those words, Natasha almost fainted when she started hallucinating images of piercing emeralds, when that word was mentioned.

"Was your little daydream enjoyable? Since we do only have one hour before our targets leave. And to answer the impeding question, I couldn't join you on the dropship since magic interferes with technology, and Fury didn't mention me, due to him finding this hilarious. Are you ready."

Nodding, she stood up, and jogged over to Neville's side.

"The location is invisible to you Muggles, people who lack magic, because there's a Muggle-Repelling Ward set up around the perimeter of the house. Along with a variety of other wards, which I've been asked to take down," he commented absently.

Suddenly, a tugging feeling drew her away from Neville, in the opposite direction of where he was walking. Quickly sighing in annoyance, Neville cast a couple different Detection Charms, and found that the Burrow was protected by Muggle-Repelling Wards, some sort of Flame Shield Ward, a Ward which summoned heavy winds, and a few different Compulsion Wards.

Using logic, Neville concluded that the basis of these wards wasn't 'Protection', because that would require large amounts of energy to power, which would take multiple Warders, and considerable wealth. Instead it was, 'Stalling', meaning that the wards aren't very consistent, and gain more power, the more attackers there are, because wards that use the foundation of 'Stalling', leech off of the attacker's magical energies. Because only Neville was there, the wards were quite weak at the moment, and could be easily overpowered, with an overpowered Bombarda Curse.

Calling Natasha out of her trance, he called her over, to the now visible Burrow.

'A precarious, and unstable settlement for sure. Why not simply construct a proper building,' was what Natasha thought of the place.

"Prepare yourself, once I dropped the wards, it alerted the person who set it up. Thankfully, I remembered to set up Anti-Portkey and Anti-Apparition Wards, so they can't escape," Neville said. Disregarding the look of confusion on Natasha's face, they continued walking towards the Burrow.

**In regards to the wards, think of it like a traffic jam, the fewer cars there are (which represent the attackers of the wards), the less impact traffic (think of the state of traffic itself as the strength of the wards, when the traffic is really awful, that's the wards at their strongest, and vice versa) will have upon the commuters. However, the more cars there are, the slower, and more impacting traffic will become. **

**As for plot holes and missing background info, I was saving it for this chapter.**

**'Chapter 4' (technically 3), a reference to how the number 4 to the Chinese, is literally Death. Symbolism was the goal here. As for the other plot holes I've just established, I got those covered as well, it'd just be poor timing if I were to awkwardly explain it now. **

**Finally, was the chapter length suitable (roughly 2k+ worth of words in this chapter)?**

**Decollare Curse - means decapitate.**


	5. Reminisce

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or the Avengers, or both simultaneously.

Present Day:

**The United States of America:**

Plastering a neutral expression, internally, Harry was frowning, grumbling about the unfairness of the situation.

Before Stark's Rescue:

**Unknown area:**

Falling into a peaceful slumber, he groans when the familiar white room appears. Crossing her legs on top of each other, a pale, raven-haired, obsidian-eyed asshole elegantly sat on a bland white sofa.

"What would you like for me to do now asshole?" Harry wearily asked.

That annoying look of innocence was displayed on her face, and she replied in a falsely sweet voice, "Now isn't that a rude way to talk to the Grim Reaper?" and a hint of condescension echoed in her sentence. Continuing, she said, "Anyways, onto business. Tony Stark, you know of the punk, right?

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he nods, though mentally he thought that she ranted enough about the arrogant murderer, so often, that it'd be a surprise if he didn't know who Stark was.

"I need you to rescue him from terrorists…" she trailed off.

Choking on his spit, Harry managed to spit out a, "Why?"

"Because he's on the brink of reforming his genocidal ways, and although his death would please me greatly," she says with a malicious glint in her eyes, "based off of visions of the future, his continued life would help me, more than his death. Oh, I'll need you to stay with him, whether visible or not, doesn't matter, just make sure he doesn't fuck up his progress."

Nodding in acceptance, it wasn't like he could deny her demands, after all, that was the unknown price for his immortality. Harry decided, at that moment, to accompany Stark. It had been a considerable amount of time since he enjoyed anything, and with Stark, enjoyment would definitely be guaranteed.

His dream soon started to fade, and Death's image quickly blurred out, along with the rest of that blasted, goddamn room.

* * *

Present Day:

**The United States of America:**

After the excruciatingly tedious rescue mission, Harry was refreshed by the friendliness of Stark's assistant, Pepper Potts. A stark (hahaha…) contrast to the rude and arrogant personality of Tony Stark, Pepper (she insisted so) seemed pleasant enough.

Climbing into the limo with Stark, his personal driver, 'Happy', greets him with a friendly smile. In spite of Stark's warm reception party, he's soberly contemplating his thoughts, while looking out the window. Casting a Muffliato and Illusio Charm on Happy, Harry switched off his glamour, returning to his normal appearance. Startling Stark, a fascinating look of astonishment emerged on his face. Harry laughed at his shock, and then subsequently uttered an incredulous sequence of three words, "I am a wizard."

Huffing out a breath of exasperation at the skeptical look written across Stark's face, Harry torn off a piece of fabric off his shirt, and wandlessly transfigured the clothing into a sword, narrowly missing a slice at Stark's jugular vein. Chuckling at Stark's near misfortune, the sword morphed into bird, and with that Stark fainted. Casting a removing the Muffliato and the Illusio Charms, Harry then cast a Compulsion Charm on Happy, convincing him that nothing happen to Tony in the last 5 minutes, and making him think that Harry was never in his glamour in the first place.

* * *

**The Burrow:**

Neville promptly discerned the cracking sounds of Apparition originating from the Burrow. Furrowing his eyebrows, he prepared for the onslaught of red to fling spells at him. Slowly, redheads, meaning the Weasley Clan, began to trickle outside, with their wands drawn. Telling Natasha that he'd act as a decoy, Neville casted the Fiendfyre Spell, and a raging spew of massive flames, burst in a stream, from his wand. Expertly controlling it, the Weasleys couldn't cast spells at him, due to the Fiendfyre obscuring Neville from view.

The Fiendfyre proved effective at absorbing the majority of spells, however, Hermione managed to communicate to everyone to hold back the Fiendfyre with the Aguamenti Charm. Bold in his actions, a second Fiendfyre was cast, overwhelming the Weasley Clan, who were slowly encroaching themselves to the caster of the Fiendfyre. Pushing the Weasleys back into a wide circle, they were too stunned to notice Natasha creeping up behind them, and efficiently knocking them out with a fast punch to various pressure points. Luckily, the flames of the Fiendfyre were being held back with the utmost control, resulting in only minor injuries for everyone.

Extinguishing the Fiendfyres, Neville's impressive display was born from his training as a Hitwizard, something for another time. Pure shock was displayed upon Natasha's face, her jaw open in disbelief. Telling to close her mouth, or else it'll catch flies, Neville used the Levitation Charm to hover Hermione and Ron away, back to the rendezvous spot.

* * *

**S.H.I.E.L.D. Dropship:**

Glancing back to the prone bodies and Hermione and Ron, constantly gave Neville reminders of their connection to Harry. Even after his seeming abandonment of them, he still managed to send postcards through the Muggle postal service.

Harry Potter, a name that gave him both courage, and intense hatred. Memories of his time with Hannah Abbott resurfaced, and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.

* * *

11 years ago:

**India:**

Celebrating his 1 year anniversary with his girlfriend, Neville ignored the consistent prodding from his Gran to marry Hannah, and had decided on instead, to journey to India. A rather exotic country, with several foreign plants that Neville had yet to experience the joy of learning about, Hannah complied with his decision to vacation to India, as long as she could, "see the beautiful white castle there, a man's dedication to his extraordinary wife." However, the subtle reference to her desire to marry already, flew over Neville's, still oblivious, head.

Sitting with Hannah on the back of an elephant, having just managed to convince her to ride atop the docile beast, which she had an irrational fear, wonderfully exotic plants danced around them. Hannah was overzealously taking constant amounts of magical pictures, while lush blankets of green filled the scenery, and the steady humming of magical trees soothed both of them.

Their guide, a lithe muscled Indian wizard, allowed them to enthusiastically take in their surroundings even further, when from the forestry underneath, a magical creature, a tiger shaped beast, but with long, bony, saw-toothed horns protruding from its head. Having recognized the barbaric beast, the guide, pulled back their elephants, as the creature was an Aeternae, a beast encountered by Alexander the Great's army, and killed a number of his men, before they vanished into the forest.

The beast, hissing at Neville's group, cowered away at the sound of further rustling in the forest, and whimpered away, apparently cradling its wounded leg. Fearfully anticipating for the beast who managed to intimidate the ferocious Aeternae, the group was surprised to find a raggedly dressed man, whose clothing was shredded apart in many sections, and had a panicked look in his eyes.

Thinking that the man was under the influence of some spell, Neville casted a Finite Incantatem Spell, hoping to dispel the man's strange actions. Suddenly, the Indian man, mumbling to himself after tumbling out of the forest, transformed into the short Harry Potter.

Blindsided by Harry's unexpected appearance, Neville slowly drew out a Calming Drought Potion from his pack, in case some odd plant or creature scared Hannah in a blitz of panic, and hopped off the elephant. Arms up high, he slowly approaching Harry, and tried to calmly draw Harry's attention. Calling out Harry's name, he tossed the Potion towards to Harry, and instantly, Harry reacted, catching the Potion. Quickly casting a few hypnotic spells in his voice, Neville mustered as much courage as he could, after the unexpected meeting with his estranged friend, and ask Harry to down the Potion.

Gradually, Harry's erratic movements and panic began to slow, and a steady clearness returned to Harry's eyes. However, Neville made a mistake in inching close in Harry's period of unstable transitioning. Lashing out abruptly, Cutting Curses soared through all directions, with one severing Hannah's leg and arm, and another narrowly missing Neville's head, instead severing his finger, as he ducked downwards. Felling all the elephants in their party, the Indian wizard had already Apparated away, leaving the couple stranded. Accioing Hannah's limbs back to him, it was a miracle that no spells collided against them in the whirlwind of spells. Tears beginning to pour from the sides of his eyes, Neville begged to his lucky stars that Hannah wouldn't die today. Hastily grabbing out their emergency portkey, Neville thrust both his and Hannah's hands onto it, and with a single word, warped to an unknown hospital, leaving Harry isolated, his self-defense reflexes still running wild.

Thankfully, the injuries to Hannah were repairable, and she managed to live past it, albeit, with visible scars on the points where her limbs were detached, a reminder of Harry's immense magical power, so powerful, that no spell was able to remove the blemish upon Hannah's skin. However, in the chaos of that day, Neville's finger was forgotten, which he shrugged off.

* * *

Present Day:

**S.H.I.E.L.D. Dropship:**

Although nothing to tragic happened, Neville and his now wife, were both too frightened to step outside of their own homes for 2 years, the trauma of that still affecting them.

However, the lull of Fury's deal still rang in Neville's head, having approached Neville to discuss this particular mission a couple days ago, an enticing prospect may have just opened up to Neville.

* * *

A couple days ago:

**A dubious, destitute bar, in a desolate rural tavern:**

"Longbottom, a favour for a favour?" Nick asked, while sipping drinks in some desolate bar. Of course, Fury disguised himself by sending someone else as a messenger, some random agent from his espionage agency.

After a moment's hesitation, Neville replied, "Fire away Nick."

"I may have a potential cure, for your parent problems."

Sparking a fire of optimism in Neville, it was soon quelled, as Neville had earlier on learned not to raised his hopes for a hopeless cause.

"Ah, what's the catch?" Neville replied.

"I'll need your expertise for a couple hours, possibly more."

Sighing in defeat, as Neville wouldn't pass up any chance to help his parents, he agreed.

"Good, I'll need you in 3 day's time," Fury said, ending the transmission.

Turning back to his drink, Neville waited for his drinking pals to arrive.

* * *

Present Day:

**S.H.I.E.L.D. Dropship:**

Fuming silently at Director Fury's omission of this…**wizard's** presence, outwardly she looked indifferent. Deeply inhaling, she let it go, it didn't negatively affect the outcome of the mission, and it proved to be actually a boon to her.

Her curiosity ended up conquering her professionalism, as Natasha stepped over to Neville, who had his eyes closed, contemplating about his parents.

Bracing herself for the impending delicate conversation, the clacking of her boots had Neville lift an eyebrow open. Turning his head to face her, he lifted himself up, and stood facing her.

"Damn, a little out of shape still," he said, while harmless cracking noises were produce by Neville, "it's days like these that I still wish I was working as a Hitwizard."

Scrunching her eyes in confusion, Neville clarified, "A magical mercenary, an occupation generally ignored by the normal wizarding populace. Nonetheless, it's quite interesting, and very profitable. You'd be surprised at the amount of fearful cowards in the Wizarding World, even with our magic, the wealthy still lack common sense," he said, chuckling lightly.

On an odd whim, Natasha impulsively asked him about any "Harry Evans" that he knew, with messy black hair, and startling emerald eyes, and surprisingly, Neville thought about it.

"Going by his mother's name, huh. Well Natasha, may I call you Natasha?"

Nodding in acceptance, Neville continued, "Harry Evans, more commonly known as Harry Potter, is the mass-murdering, savior of Wizarding Britain. And is quite the celebrity. However, his legacy is still relentlessly debated over, for his merciless actions earned the peace of the Wizarding, yet there are those who were dissatisfied, since Potter slaughtered many Heads of Pureblood families, causing an uproar, with Potter's opponents demanding retribution against Potter, for his careless act of ending numerous Pureblooded bloodlines. However, his opponents have dispersed, for he hasn't been seen in 10 years.

Any particular reason why you wanted to ask about him?"

With a cool professionalism, she replied, "Just curious."

Sensing that she didn't want him to pry, Neville added in another bit, "I believe him to be still alive, after all possessing the three items of Death, would most certainly grant some otherworldly power to him. Having witnessed its power firsthand, I could certainly tell."

With all her inquiries sated, the duo discussed trivial things, such as the weather.

* * *

**Nearby the area for a press conference:**

With a baffled Tony Stark, an ignorant Happy, and a bemused Harry meeting together with Pepper, who'd entered another limo, mainly to suppress the panic of losing her employer, then subsequently finding him. Of course, Harry cast an Obliviate on Pepper, removing the image of Harry being a Middle Eastern man, and replacing it with his current guise.

Merely flowing along with Stark, Harry tightly leashed in his magic, for normally it rolled off him in waves, in order to prevent the malfunctioning of nearby electronics, as amusing as that'd be. With the whispers of the Hallows warning him of an overhead surveillance device, Harry sent a cheeky grin at it, and effectively overloading its circuits with his magic.

* * *

**S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters:**

Carefully observing Mr. 'Evans', Fury swore when his multi-million dollar surveillance drone caught a glimpse of Harry's grin, and shortly afterwards, the drone dropped from the clouds, landing in some poor fellow's backyard.

Calling in Barton to deal with surveillance, Fury turn his eye over to the latest mission report from Romanoff.

* * *

**Having reached 11,000 views, almost 30 reviews, over 80 favorites, and 160 follows has me genuinely pumped to write more chapters! **

**I apologize if some bits are rather scrambled, for I only edited it twice. **

**Anyways, hopefully this covered all plotholes, which I admit, some were intentional. **

**The Aeternae was something from Indian mythology. I was wondering if anyone would be willing to provide any suggestions for other mythical creatures. If you are, PM me.**

**Illusio Charm - means Illusion. Makes the target see whatever the caster desires, however, the caster can only alter the position of something in the eyes of the target, instead of actually creating an illusion. It is often overlooked, due to the intense amounts of concentration and magical ability.**


	6. Realigned

Disclaimer: I've said this enough times already…

**I apologize if some parts don't align with events in the movies. I'll just be lazy, and label my mistakes down as, "Remember, it's fanfiction." I also apologize for the crass language in the previous chapter. **

**Edit: Due to some reviews commenting on something I completely missed (Thank you to those who caught my mistake), I changed the wording in the conversation between Coulson and Hermione.**

* * *

Present Day:

**Still at the press conference:**

Hugging Tony the moment he got out of the limo, Obadiah Stane appeared to be jovial about Tony's return, yet Harry saw the forced smile on his face, something Tony was too distracted to be bothered by. Crowds of various officials of some departments no one gives a damn about, reporters, and onlookers cheered for Stark's return, and didn't give a second thought to Harry slipping by.

Already waiting by the time Stark reached the larger group of reporters, Harry sent Stark an exceptionally audacious grin, drawing some attention to himself, while Obadiah was confused by him. Acknowledging Pepper, as she stood beside him, Harry prepared for oncoming controversy. Panicking slightly, when someone, with the attire of a government agent, crept behind him. Turning around, Harry quickly performed a silent Legilimens on the man, and upon learning he was from S.H.I.E.L.D., Harry struggled to maintain a calm composure.

Once Agent Coulson's brief talk with Pepper was concluded, he recognized who Harry was, and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, saying, "We'll get you soon enough." Pepper, however, was shooting a glance at him, confused by the strangeness of that conversation.

Refocusing his attention upon Stark's tendency for controversy, Harry looked up, just in time to catch Stark announcing the decommissioning of Stark International's Weapons Division. Satisfied that his main objective for Death was already complete, he turned to leave, when he bumped into Colonel Rhodes.

"Sorry," he said, while squinting at the name stitched onto the military man's uniform, "Colonel Rhodes, just making my way out."

Drawn by the slight commotion occurring behind her, Pepper Potts turned around, nodding to Rhodes. However, her perceptive eye caught the form of Harry sneaking away, and she decidedly to have an impromptu introduction for him.

"Rhodey, this gentleman slipping past us is…" her voice trailing off imploringly.

Sighing in resignation, Harry replied, "Harry Evans."

"-Harry Evans, the man who rescued Tony," she continued.

However, the nosiness of an unknown reporter, accidentally eavesdropped upon their conversation, and he accidentally caused a stampede, when he said, "This man over here-" pointing at Harry, "-rescued Tony Stark."

With the sudden surge of reporters colliding against each other to interview him, Harry dashed away, bolting out of there as fast he could. After, 10 years of living without an identity, only to be exposed by sheer idiocy, wasn't something that Harry desired.

Reassuring himself that no one followed him, Harry vigorously scanned his surroundings. Ensuring that there were no witnesses, the distinct crack of Apparition was soon heard, marking his escape.

* * *

The next day…

**Stark's home:**

Glaring at the idiot on the T.V. monitor, poking fun at her boss, Pepper switches the channel, only to find another story about Tony, or rather his rescuer.

**"BREAKING NEWS: TONY STARK HAS BEEN RESCUED!**

**WHO IS HIS MYSTERIOUS LIBERATOR?"**

Soothing her chin from all the stress, she doesn't notice when JARVIS alerts her to the presence of an intruder.

Walking further through Stark's exceptionally lavish home, the blatant, "modern-ness" of it tempts Harry to obliterate it in a blazing glory of incineration, but he suppresses the violent thoughts the Hallows are supplying.

Deciding not to cloak his presence, JARVIS should've sensed him by now, he followed the sounds of the telly, to find Pepper, in a stressed meditation of sorts. Choosing to become a man-child for a minute, Harry slowly walked towards Pepper, cautiously attempting to not make a sound. Eventually looming behind her, a spectacular shout, stupendously so, startled the stressed Pepper. Shrieking in surprise, Harry cackling madly on the floor, cradling his sides, aching from intense amounts of laughter. Blushing in embarrassment, her plight soon become inquisitive, as she began to question how Harry entered Tony's home. When she asked, he replied, "Magic." Scoffing at his childish antics, she dragged him down to the shop, to assist Tony with a delicate matter.

Thoroughly amused by Pepper's antics with Tony, the wait was killing Harry. Standing outside the doorway, a spooked Tony Stark greeted him. Tony, indicating with his head's motions, that Pepper should leave, instincts protected Harry, as he ducked under the fast swing of Tony's fist. Freezing Stark in place with wandless magic, he, once again, waited for the onslaught of Stark's questions.

"Who the hell are you?" Tony asked.

Replying in an amused tone, "Well, I'm Harry Evans…"

"And?"

"Oh, I also rescued you."

"And?"

"I can do magic."

"Stop with the damn silliness you're addressing me. Let me ask again, who are you?"

Sighing in resignation, yet a smirk was etched on Harry's face, he replies, "If know must know, I'm Harry Potter, Death's errand boy, overall badass, and temporarily, your companion. Now, if you want me to let you down, ask nicely."

"Let me down," Stark said, barely restraining his annoyance.

"Let me down?" Harry questioned imploringly.

"Let me down please?" Stark replied, finally relenting his hostility.

"Fine."

With that, Stark dropped quite painfully onto the floor, curling into a crumpled ball, probably the negative aftereffects of his magic, on the glowing circle embedded within Stark's chest.

* * *

**S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters:**

Slowly pulling herself up Hermione Granger-Weasley found herself in an unfamiliar bed. Thankfully, Ron was blissfully snoring, ignorant of this recent development. With her large list of enemies, literally anyone of them could've targeted her, however, since she hadn't felt of inkling of torture, as of known, in fact, she was quite content, Hermione deduced that this mysterious person, or group, wanted information, or some sort of cooperation from her.

Twiddling her thumbs idly while waiting for Ron to rouse himself, must give the man his rest, after all these years, the door to her newly found prison opened up. Glancing at the unfamiliar man, Hermione instinctively reached for her wand… only for it to have vanished from there. Cursing herself for her lack of logic in that moment, the man introduced himself.

"Hello Mrs. Weasley. Good to see you awake, I'm Agent Coulson. I work the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, commonly shortened to S.H.I. . I'm sorry to say this, but my employer and I require you and your husband's services. Don't worry just yet, none of your family was left with even a scratch. Sadly, you cannot back out of this decision, we genuinely require your, skillset," he said cordially.

Eyeing Agent Coulson wearily, Hermione replied, "Have any of you actions been approved by my government? As I'm sure with a couple of the right calls, their wrath will-"

"Mrs. Weasley, no need for bluffing here. You are quite powerless without your wand. Anyways, I offer you a choice, either I leave you to your own devices here, of course you'll be fed and taken care of, but compare the experience to living in a hospital bed. Or, if you do choose to accept, I'll elaborate on the services I require of you once we leave this room," he countered, wearing that infuriatingly polite smile.

'Tempting, but unacceptable,' she thought. Preparing to reject his offer, he interrupted before she could properly speak

"If you do choose to work with us, there will be a high probability that you'll encounter someone you've been missing dearly," he interjected, before he once again, advertised his smile.

Balling her hands into fists angrily, the anger she felt trembled at the light of logic. Calming down slightly, she replied once again, "Alright Agent Coulson, lead the way."

Trashing Ron's poor sleeping habits, Hermione vigorously shook Ron's prone form, disturbing Ron's blissful sleep. Groaning in annoyance, searing pain soared through his arm, after Hermione mercilessly yanked it off the bed. Crawling behind her, Ron was utterly confused, whilst tired.

* * *

**Somewhere else in those Headquarters:**

Preparing to relax with a rejuvenating cup of tea, the idle machinations of the T.V. inside her room were ignored. Left on only for the shake of being colorful, it proved its worth at this moment.

Hearing the useless blabbering of a reporter on T.V., portions of what she was saying flickered inside Natasha's mind, noting that Tony Stark was finally rescued. Deciding to briefly gaze at the T.V., merely because today it managed to pique her interest, she saw Harry Evans' face flash onto the T.V. screen, as if mocking her. Haunting emerald eyes bore into her, and not even the poor lighting of the picture could dull the piercing eyes. Stumbling backwards in shock, she slowly consumed this information, dwelling on how he survived a bullet to the head. Teetering back and forth, all sense of balance was lost from Natasha, as she quickly faded into shock. Feebly walking to her bed, her leg collided against it, but the pain didn't register, and she fell asleep, albeit dreaming fervently about Harry.

* * *

**The next day…**

Soothing herself from the immense stress of learning that the subject of her nightmares survived the assassination she performed on him, Natasha immediately sought for any information regarding his whereabouts. With a lack of any info regarding him, it appeared that Harry vanished.

With a certain communicator interrupting her thoughts, she picked it up, and responded.

"Romanoff here."

"Get close to Stark now, with his current return, and Harry's involvement, the plan will have to be sped up," replied the hurried tone of Nick Fury.

"Acknowledged, I'm preparing to leave as we speak."

"Of course you aren't, I'll have Neville provide backup."

Smiling slightly, Natasha eased herself into the identity of Natalie Rushman, and changing into the clothes that suited Natalie.

* * *

**Stark's place of residence:**

Having missed any semblance of sleep to work on the Iron Man suit, Tony Stark was thoroughly exhausted, and yet somehow Harry managed to irked him even further, dropping a larger burden of exhaustion on his shoulders.

Waving hello to Pepper as she walked inside the workshop with refreshments, Harry slowly began to warm up to her, revealing miniscule details of his adventures, on course, heavily modified so that no speckle of magic was revealed in them. Thanking her for the brief respite from the boredom that Tony created while building his damn machine, Harry was tempted to blast the suit to oblivion, and calmly walk away. Instead, he chose to pester Stark with a multitude of annoying questions, such as this.

"Hey Stark?"

"Yes, you goddamn moron?" Stark replied exasperatedly.

"Have you ever seen a genocide?"

Pausing slightly, Stark turned his head over to look at Harry with an incredulous look, he replied, "And you have… don't answer. Let me guess? You have? Bravo. Now if only everyone would be able to say that."

"Ouch, being the pawn of Death is no joking matter."

"Huh, once again you delude yourself with the notion of magic, you must either be taking drugs, or you have a mental disease. Before you reply, I must've been on drugs as well," Stark said, once again, in a deadpanned tone.

Grunting in annoyance, Harry Apparated away with an unexpected crack, causing Tony to slam his tender head into the lamp hanging above him.

'Damn, at least he's somewhat interesting," Stark thought.

* * *

**Streets of Manhattan:**

Chuckling ever so slightly, he wouldn't wish to alert his watcher now, would he? Randomly browsing the stores nearby, Harry easily saw the archer performing surveillance on him, from the roof of sizeable building. Stepping into another lingerie store, Harry glanced upwards to see the look of professionalism on the archer's face crack quickly, as confusion was written on the archer's face. Glimpsing around the innards of the Victoria's Secret Store, Harry struggled to contain his laughter.

* * *

**Please forgive, my current school workload is bearable, but with constant interferences from my job, and the cold I've recently caught, it has become cumbersome to update this fic. Nonetheless, I'll manage.**

**Also, apologies for the filler-ness of this chapter, but it's somewhat necessary.**

**As to the comments to Neville's behavior, just think of the life he's went through, living without any loving parental figures in his life, and then he's offered the opportunity to bring his parents back to sanity. Of course he'd say yes, that kind of desire is deeply ingrained inside his mind. **

**Lastly, the lackluster amount of reviews so far is disappointingly depressing. Note that it does demoralize me, and if the amount of reviews were to be bolstered considerably, I'd have more motivation to update regularly. **


	7. Redemption

Chapter 6 - Redemption:

Disclaimer: I've said this enough times already…

* * *

Chuckling at the pain Tony was currently experiencing after boosting into the wall above him, a silently cast, wandless strengthening spell was applied throughout Harry's entire body. Slowly stepping towards Stark, Harry offered him a hand, while grinning at Stark's mishap.

Sighing, once again, from the continuous questioning from Stark regarding magic, his relentless barrage of damn questions tempted Harry to Transfigure Stark into a ferret.

However, once Stark's inquiries turned to practical applications of magic, fused with modern technologies, Harry thought it would've been amusing to demonstrate it firsthand, on the Iron Man suit. Dismissing that thought, it'd only result in vengeance against Harry, meaning an even larger flood of questions.

* * *

Suspicious of Obadiah Stane, the man Harry was about to encounter, a quick decision had Harry cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. Observing Pepper's look of astonishment when she couldn't find him anywhere in the household, Harry held in his mirth.

Stalking around where Tony was about to grab his pizza, the moment that Stane was distracted in a conversation with Tony, Harry planted a Tracking Charm onto Stane himself, a precaution for the suspiciousness that Harry sensed when meeting Stane.

Retreating away from both Stark and Stane, temptation to tell Pepper his secret arose, after watching her helplessly scramble, looking for him, but Harry wasn't as naïve, and silently Apparated away.

* * *

Clint Barton was quite the frustrated man at this point, his target erratically appearing all over the place, then instantly vanishing. Clearly attempting to mess with his head, his latest target was a source of aggravation for him. Closing his eyes to refocus himself, Clint was oblivious to the Tracking Charm placed on him, so the unexpected poke from behind startled him greatly, but his vicious instincts lashed behind him, hoping to grab the fleeing suspect's arm. Sensing something grasped in his hand, Clint yanked it back towards him…only to look down at a handful of pink panties, encased in his hand.

Tossing them away in annoyance, the muffled click of a camera went unnoticed.

* * *

With a wicked grin sported across his face, Harry sought retribution against S.H.I.E.L.D for their surveillance of his activities. What better method to enrage them, then outplaying them at their own game? Cackling at the humiliating pictures in his hands, the information gathered from Barton would be used for a… ironic purpose.

Within minutes after Barton's embarrassment, a rather compromising picture began circulating throughout S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base of operations. Whispers of the professional, and famous, Clint Barton, began to run more rampant, and soon, his reputation crumbled. Mocking glances, after his mission concluded, were definitely guaranteed.

Mulling over recent events, his reverie was interrupted by a disorienting crack. Gazing to where the interruption came from, Fury was awarded with a picture of Barton, sniffing pink panties. Scowling in displeasure, Fury renewed his efforts into finding Potter. After all, it could only be him.

* * *

Resisting the urge to bawl her eyes out from the discovery that her friend had been found, another deep breath was taken. Glancing over to her husband, they both attempted to formulate a plan to deal with Harry.

Forgoing the idea of directly meeting with him, face-to-face, as his newly found cynicism would be incredulous at the idea of his (formerly best) friends, spontaneously deciding to meet with him, and somehow track him down. Highly suspicious indeed.

Combining there intensive collection of Harry's habits, they factored in both his, "saving people thing", and his penchant for danger, fused them both together, and created a scenario where Natasha Romanoff, would be endangered while meeting Harry. Debating endlessly between the two of them, finally, Hermione and Ron settled on forcing Harry to save Romanoff from a dangerous fiasco, and the Romanoff would eventually become his confidant, lowering Harry's guard, enough to capture him.

Yet then they questioned why Harry would want to even converse with Natasha, in her cover. Deciding that after Natasha, or more correctly, Natalie's 'rescue', she'd offer him to a few lunches, (Harry was too much of a gentleman to refuse, and his kinder side would prevail) and then using her charms, Romanoff would enrapture him.

Both Ron and Hermione, however, were disgusted with the manipulative scheme they'd concocted, yet reasoned with themselves that it was a necessary evil to reunite with Harry.

Then, in a moment of realization, Hermione smacked her forehead, "Damnit, Harry would obviously possess some skills in Legilimency," she shouted, in a stressed tone.

Pondering the idea of teaching Natasha Occlumency, Hermione asked Ron, "Is it possible to teach Muggles Occlumency?"

"I dunno," he replied

Pining to both Coulson and Fury about their dilemma, Fury said in a resigned voice, "You can borrow our expert. Don't hurt him."

Both Hermione and Ron looked perplexed at that.

Glaring daggers at Neville, who was sheepishly treading to their workspace, he rubbed the back of his head in shame.

"Sorry for the mess back there," said Neville, turning away from their gaze

"Mate, I don't know whether I should hex you into oblivion for kidnapping us, or hug you to death, for giving us a chance to reunite with Harry," replied Ron.

Bringing in a couple willing, Muggle volunteers, Neville tried to teach the volunteers basic meditation techniques, and breathing exercises. Utilizing his profound knowledge on the subject, garnered from his decade spent as a Hitwizard, the volunteers underwent several days of rigorous calming, and relaxation techniques.

Finally, the stage was set for the actual tests. Asking the volunteers to apply all the techniques they've learned calm, and clear their thoughts, Neville delicately casted Legilimens on each one. It was quite the success.

Modifying their plans slightly, since Natasha still had to undergo the testing for mental barriers, their plan was approved by Fury.

* * *

Looking at the display case that held the original Arc Reactor, Harry commented, "You shouldn't be so keen to ignore the past Stark."

"And you shouldn't care," Tony countered.

"Ironic," Harry muttered under his breath.

Noticing Tony was being engulfed by the various pieces of the Iron Man suit, Harry threw in his two cents, "Couldn't it be red and blue, you know, for your flag. I was under the impression that you were a patriot."

"This looks more badass, and the colours compliment each other," Tony shot back.

Dropping that topic of conversation, Harry's mood immediately became somber.

"You're going to save Yinsen's village, aren't you?"

"Only took you now to figure that out. Congratulations Sherlock, want a cookie?" Tony mocked back.

"What is it called again?"

"Gulmira," was Tony's curt reply.

"Race you there."

"You. Are. On," replied Tony, bracing himself for an effortless win.

And with that, Harry focused on that name, and Apparated instantly.

"Son of a bitch, that cheating asshole…" grumbled Stark, as he blasted out of his workshop.

* * *

**Gulmira, Afghanistan:**

Silently berating himself, for not remembering to bring something that could communicate to Tony, Harry settled for sitting near a small pile of rubble, on the outskirts of the village. Casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself, he waited for Stark to arrive.

Laughing about his guaranteed win, Stark arrived to a scene of devastation and chaos. Priming the his palm cannons, his suit identifies the darting figure running to where he's about to land, as Harry.

Transitioning immediately from astonishment, to resignation, Stark wrote it off as another one of the conveniences of magic.

Suddenly, an unnatural shout emanated from Harry, and once again, Stark wrote it off as another property of magic.

"Stark, I'm sorry to announce, that you've just lost. To me. A British man. How does it feel," yelled Harry, in quite the jesting tone.

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint, but you should pay attention-" Stark interrupted himself mid-sentence, to fire his palm cannon at someone sneaking up behind Harry.

Scrambling into cover, dying was often an unpleasant experience, Harry blindly fired random spells from his pathetic pile of rubble, attempting to become proper cover.

However, seeing Tony just waltz through the village, genuinely irked Harry, and so Harry hurled himself over his pitiful cover, madly dashing through the streets, with dazzling jets of light erupting from him. Like a stampede of bull, rampaging through the hapless crowds, Harry tore past the terrorists, miraculously only killing terrorists, leaving no collateral damage.

Even frightening Stark, whose suicidal tendencies didn't even match up to Harry's, Harry's body count skyrocketed, leaving behind smoldering corpses, mutilated beyond any recognition.

Finally catching up to Tony, Harry was desperately panting for respite from his breathlessness. Gradually resting, Harry walked up behind Stark, placing his hand on the metallic suit that Stark wore.

"24 kills."

Gulping from the intimidating display that he just witnessed, Tony Stark replied, "25."

"Damn. Well, there's always next time I suppose," Harry nonchalantly said.

Shaking off the bloodlust drowning his thoughts, and pulling himself up from the abyss of insanity, Harry scanned into the slightly fearful faces of the villagers, and turned back to Stark. Nodding to each other, they dove further into the village, using their own means

* * *

Thankful that he didn't accidentally Splinch himself, Harry was already adapted to the restrictive, and uncomfortable feeling of Apparition. Noticing the telltale marks of gunshot wounds, scattered across his body, Harry limped to where Tony was heading. Walking at a slowly and sedate pace, Harry was oblivious to the tank behind him. Distracted by the groaning on the tank, Harry slowly turned his head to look behind him… and saw the barrel on the tank's main gun was directed at him

"Shit…" were the last words he uttered, before his body was incinerated in the blast.

* * *

Cautiously rising from the area in which he just perished in, his entire body was too stiff, and aching in annoying agony. Spotting his stupendous slayer, smoldering from seemingly severe infernos, razing it endlessly. Observing the Stark logo on a nearby box of munitions, Harry prepared himself for a moral revolution within Tony.

Think of "Tony", Harry Apparated into a perilous dogfight between Tony, and what appeared to be the United States Air Force. Gravity finally caught up to Harry, causing him to free-fall in mid-air. Focusing was somewhat of a challenge at this altitude, but Harry managed to cast a Time-Stopping spell over his body, carving a massive chunk from Harry's magical core.

Instantly Apparating onto the top of one jet, his reflexes kicked in. Instinctively, he applied a Sticking Charm onto his fingers, but slipped further along the jet. Dangling from the edge of the left wing, he cancelled the Sticking charm on the fingers of his right hand, and casting several smoke-producing Hexes on the jets themselves, obscuring the pilots' vision. Noticing Tony nearby, he gestured to Stark to escape in the confusion.

And escape they did.

* * *

**Apologies for not knowing the dates of all the events. **

**I took some liberties with the tracking charm. **

**Had some difficulty with this chapter, due to the horridness of my laptop, and my own personal procrastination. I thank the reviewers, who got me to 50+ reviews, over 130 favourites, and 250 followers, for motivating me into writing this chapter, since I can't stand writing filler, and this is borderline filler. Borderline. **

**Lastly, before I return to my hidey-hole, does anyone wish for Pepper to know of Harry's magic? Or not. Either, it won't affect the plot, rather bits of future character development. **

**I thought I made it obvious, but to those of you who didn't catch on, Hermione and Ron were brought in to lure Harry, not as hostages, rather instead, concoct a plan to lure him. They obviously know him best, after all. Using them as hostages was a perilous, and foolish choice, because of Harry's power, and Fury recognized that. Anyways, I hope that the plan for Natasha and Harry to meet in, was somewhat logical. **

**As to the reviews regarding Stark instantly believing in magic, I think that the existence of superheroes, mutants (because mutants do exist in this version of the Marvel universe, according to what I've read), and Stark's own creation of the Iron Man suit, would convince Stark the plausibility of magic. **

**The Time-Stopping spell requires massive concentration on the caster's part, and large magical reserves. Essentially, it freezes the target(s) of the spell, in its current state, meaning the target(s) cannot be affected by anything outside the range on the spell. **

**Lastly, I just want to say that this chapter was unbearable to write. I feel that Harry's becoming too Gary Stu-like. Oh well.**


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